It Moves On
by thelinksthatconnectus
Summary: Dipper, home from the hospital but still needing to rest and heal, has a lot of alone time to adjust to having his body back again. Post "Sock Opera"


It took him a few moments to force his eyes open and keep them from shutting once more. If Dipper could, he would have gladly gone back to sleep and stayed that way. However, his body thought otherwise.

Unlike the hospital room from the day before, the attic was silent. From downstairs he could hear just the faintest bit of noise. The sound of a too loud tourist talking, the occasional yell from his uncle, and the pattering of feet. Those noises were far and few between, and much better than the constant beeping he had heard at the hospital.

Though he was out, he was stuck on bed rest. There was nothing that Dipper could do but wait until he got better.

Still, it wasn't as if he had anything to do in the first place. With the laptop destroyed, he was back on square one with only the third journal to help him. Where the others were, he didn't know. Maybe his uncle still had the second, maybe not. He probably just took it from Gideon so the police wouldn't get it, or to just make himself feel cool for taking something Gideon had loved.

The only way he knew of getting more information was by going back to the bunker itself. Considering all the trouble it had caused him before, he doubted that would be a good idea. With his luck, he would just land in the hospital again and once more be stuck listening to the chattering of nurses, the whir of rolling wheels on a food cart, and the sound of beeping medical machinery.

Dipper's eyes refused to remain closed any longer. They had gotten their fill of sleep, taking many hours. Though his mind begged for even more sleep, it seemed that his body had finally gotten sick of it.

Well, Dipper thought, at least my noodle arms should be better.

Testing them out, he sat up in bed. His body still ached, and he was pretty sure that it would stay that way for quite some time. How Bill had been able to do so much damage in such a short amount of time shocked Dipper. The doctor had been shocked as well.

His uncle had said that it was from stress, lack of sleep, and most of all from the fireworks incident.

"Mabel here is sorry," he had said. "But she and I both understand that Dipper wanted to help her." He had placed a comforting hand on his niece's shoulder. Dipper had been just barely awake to witness the scene.

"This seems extreme, even for an incident like that." The doctor had raised one of her eyebrows. She had pushed a dark strand of hair away from ear. "Did your niece receive any of this damage as well?"

"Uh, no," his uncle had quickly replied. "She's able to with stand a lot of things. That's my Mabel."

Mabel had forced a smile, but somehow it had gone past the doctor. The image of her flashing her braces had remained in his mind even as he had drifted off into a much needed slumber.

And what a slumber that had been. Dipper couldn't help but envy himself from a few days before.

Sleeping was what had made the hospital bearable. Now, with his eyes open and on the room in front of him, sleep seemed like a far away memory. The memory of it was a pain worse than the bruises that Bill had covered his body in.

He sat up further, moving apart his limbs. In the hospital bed, he had been almost completely limp. Rarely had he moved, save to eat (and that had taken quite a bit of energy) or to get up and walk to his small bathroom (with the help of his nurse or family of course). He hadn't stayed in the bathroom long; even through his hospital gown, he could see his scars.

Dipper had once heard someone say that every scar had a story. If so, then he wondered what stories Bill had written while in his body. It was his once more, and he wasn't about to let it be stolen from him again, but it felt wrong. It was like putting on an old shirt and realizing that not only was it now a bit too small, but it was also no longer a favorite. Out of style, some would say.

But how could it be? This body was his, and he didn't (currently) know of any way to get another.

It looked like his body, despite the scars. His head of chocolate brown hair was the same as it had always been. His nose was the same as Mabel's, as was his basic facial structure. Bill hadn't taken an eye out of him.

But it wasn't right either. The world was too solid. The mindscape may have been a nightmare, but in some ways it had almost been nice.

Now Dipper felt everything and could be heard by anyone. Whatever he touched and whatever he said reverberated through him.

It was pretty ironic, once he thought about it.

Bill must have done something to his brain because it hurt to do that too.

He might have called it an out of body experience. It was certainly strange, and he couldn't help but almost feel that he wasn't really in his body after all.

But he was there; he knew that. Besides, how could it be an out of body experience if he was in his own body?

Tracing his fingers along one of the scars, Dipper bit his lip. The longer he did it, the less that he noticed the pain.

Pain - that was what Bill had been trying to feel. How much had he caused? Would he completely heal, or had Bill changed him forever in the short time that he had taken over Dipper's body?

The pain ran through him; it was hard and all consuming, running through him quickly, as if to make up for the time lost while Dipper had been turned numb in the hospital. Now, free of medicine, the pain moved freely.

Looking across the room, Dipper struggled to find something to capture his attention. Even as his eyes moved, his finger continued to run along one of his scars. A few songs passed through his mind, but vanished just as quickly. "Disco Girl" and "Taking Over Midnight" faded away, the happy, bright music vanishing, until once again all he could hear was the ever constant ringing in his ears and the various sounds coming from downstairs.

A few books were by his bed side, but he never reached for them. The words would likely be a welcome distraction, but that was if he had the strength to keep the book propped up and to keep turning the pages.

Mabel had put the books there. As much as he was thankful for his sister thinking of him (and now, he realized, it must have been hard for her not to) and trying to help him out, he couldn't help but wonder just what books she had grabbed.

Though he knew he couldn't escape it forever, Dipper at least needed a short break for now from the supernatural. He had definitely gotten more than he had bargained for about it already.

The longer he lay in bed, the more that he heard. Mabel would chatter, ever happy as always. Soos would crack a few jokes, and Wendy would make one herself. He couldn't hear everything, and had to fill in most of the blanks himself.

Looking down to his wounds, he gave a small, quick smile. They looked bad, but they could fade. Dipper had gotten his body back, and he was going to make sure that if the demon ever dared to look at him again he would realize that. He kept his hands away. Touching his wounds was pointless; that certainly wouldn't help them heal any faster.

Soon enough, he would be able to go downstairs and laugh his friends again.

It would be just like before, but everything would be different.

When Dipper again closed his eyes, sleep finally came.


End file.
